The Profane Farmhouse
Ever since we were first exposed to their writing over a decade ago, we have kept an eye out for any locations which may contain traces of work by a person who we have come to call the “Profane Poet” - A vandal who's trademark is obscene gibberish is feverishly scrawled through several location in northern New Jersey. Oft times the ramblings are written in most peculiar places, such as on ceilings, inside of cabinet drawers, or at the bottom of toilets. To date, the best example we have found is the Rutherfurd Stuyvesant Estate, a place so covered in obscene and hateful writing that it can make one uneasy.
What initially attracted our attention to the work from this individual was, admittedly, the excessive vulgarity of their writings. However after you spend some time studying all of the hurriedly scribbled outbursts, it becomes more and more apparent that the person behind the writings isn't doing this to get a rise out of passers-by. The messages begin to take on an air of deliberate anger, directed at a specific person, or very small group of select people. It seems the author doesn't care who may or may not read their writings – The messages are composed in a burst of anger and seemingly intended solely for the individual who they are focused on whilst writing. It's then that you begin to see through the humorous over-the-top collection of profanity, at what may very well be the eerily violent ranting of an unhinged mind. To further add to the unsettling nature of this unknown individual, we have witnessed that over the years since we have been observing these writings, that the author returns to locations which they visited years prior, and traces over any text that may have faded.
This small old farmhouse only bore a few markings from the “poet”. Aside from the vulgar scribbling, on the whole the place was actually quite picturesque. A massive patch of ivy has consumed a majority of the house's fieldstone walls, turning the interior into a perpetually enshadowed cave. Relics of the last family to call this place a home were sparse, however the few things that remained were just enough for the imagination to latch onto.
There's something very sad about this lost firetruck.